OneShots, Ficlets and Drabbles
by KB Edge
Summary: A place to keep any oneshots, or other short stories written for the Prowl and Jazz pairing. Chapter 8: 3 Snippets. Boom-Boom and 2 unfinished versions of Prowls POV of I Watched.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Transformers belong to those that own them and not me.

Title: I Watched  
Verse" G1  
Pairings: Prowl/Jazz  
Warnings: Mech/Mech kissing, Mentions of Spark bonding and Mentions of Unnamed Mech death. (Nothing Deatiled on this one.)  
Crossposted to the LJ community PxJ

Summary: Jazz falls in love and for the most part is content to just watch. But not being loved back can bring a spark down.

* * *

I watched as you held yourself stiff and unemotional the first time we met. And yet as I stared into those light blue optics, I found myself falling. But I could tell that you felt nothing, so I kept quiet. Time flew by, and we became friends. But that was all we were, and I valued it more then anything.

I watched as you mourned the loss of lives, heritage and tradition when your home city fell. Others couldn't see what I saw. They said you weren't affected. Said you were cold-sparked, emotionless. They didn't see how your optics darkened with pain. Didn't notice how low your doorwings hung by the end of each dark day. I tried to be there for you, but I was worried that somehow my presence only made it worse. We were still friends after that, and yet it seemed strained. And I have no idea why.

I watched as you fell in love. The mech was a handsome new recruit. The love was instant. One day you were yourself, the next I could see the difference even before you told me. My spark fell. But as long as you were happy, I could live with it. At some point you asked my opinion. Were you moving too fast? I told you that as long as you were happy and it was what your spark wanted, what did it matter? The two of you moved faster then even I thought possible, however. Before the vorn was out you were spark-mates, considering bonding.

I watched as you battled your very spark time and again. Sending your love out into battle was pure torture. I could see the fear in your optics each time. I tried to get you to talk to me about it. Yet you always changed the topic. Lately you've been focusing on me to distract yourself. I know that's all it is, even as you stare at me with concern in your optics.

I watched as you called Ratchet to my quarters. I tried to tell you that he couldn't help me. That there was no cure for what was wrong with me. As happy as I was for you, in the end I couldn't stop my own spark from breaking. I slid into a depression for awhile. You made it even more difficult by staying by my side. Forcing me to take my energon. Keeping me company. I tried to shove you away. Told you to spend your time with your lover, instead of me. You didn't listen. So for my own sanity, I yelled, I lied, and I pushed you away. Damaging our friendship. I regretted it. But I knew It had to be done.

I watched as you drew away from me. You avoided me after that. And I told myself that it was for the best. I slowly forced myself back into what I had been. At least on the outside. I smiled. I joked. I played music and I danced. It was all a show. My spark was not in it. How could it be? I told myself that it would heal, that someday I would find someone else to love.

I watched as you stared at me in horror, with slow dawning realization in your optics. We were returning from a mission gone bad, and there had been so many casualties. I had tried, nearly giving my own life. But it had been no use. Your lover had known. Had understood my feelings for you. And as I held his slowly graying frame, he begged me to take care of you. I told him I would give my own spark for you.

I watched as your spark broke. I approached you carefully, hoping you didn't hate me. Relief flooded me as you reached for me, wrapping your arms around me and burying your helm in my neck. I held you as you broke down completely. And I made a vow. No matter if you fell in love again. No matter if you ended up hating me. No matter what, I would never leave your side again.

I watched as you said goodbye. I stood back, allowing you the space you needed, but close enough that you knew I was there for you. It was hard, I know. I worried, you were always so sad. It was to be expected though, I suppose. News came that we would have to leave Cybertron. And though I would miss our home, such as it was, I hoped that this journey would be good for you. Here you were surrounded by memories. Maybe in new surroundings you could start to live again.

I watched as you busied yourself with the preparations. Choosing who would go, what provisions we needed to take. You were so busy, always forgetting your energon. It became a habit to bring you a cube each night. The day before we were scheduled to leave, I accompanied you to Praxus. We wandered the destroyed city slowly. I knew you were saying your final goodbyes.

I watched as you tried to shout tactics as our ship was invaded by decepticons. The advice silenced as you were knocked offline. Fear swamped my spark and I tried to make my way to you. It was impossible though and I found myself defending against a mech twice my size. I fell to my knees, the mech delivering a second blow to the back of my helm. The ground tilted up to meet me. I was aware of you laying on the floor in front of me and I tried to crawl closer, but darkness flooded my processor and I knew no more.

I watched as you leaned over me, an expression on your faceplates id never seen before, concern mixed with something unidentifiable. I smiled, sitting up. I was so excited that you were alright that I leaned forward and kissed you. I felt you stiffen, and my spark froze. A moment that stretched into an eternity and then you pulled away for a moment before leaning back in to hug me tightly.

I watched as you adjusted to the new planet. Despite the battles with the 'cons you were finally able to slow down. And you were happy. I couldn't resist being happy for you as well. Slowly, ever so slowly that I didn't even notice, we began to get closer. We spent more time together. You would smile softly when I entered a room, making my spark tremble. I would hold your hand and rejoice that you didn't pull away from me.

I watched as your doorwings lifted, and your optics lightened. Sure you still had to deal with the twins pranking, Ratchets poor berthside manners, and the occasional explosion from Wheeljack's labs. But I could tell you enjoyed it. Then came the battle that you were heavily damaged in. Ratchet did what he could for you, saying he wasn't sure if you would ever online again. I remained by your side the entire time. Even the prime couldn't pull me away. I spent the time singing softly about my love for you. I wasn't concerned that you would hear. Ratchet said it was impossible.

I watched as you opened your optics for the first time in a very long time. They were unfocused for a moment then they locked on to me and you smiled softly. The next minute you were leaning up and kissing me tenderly. I closed my optics and deepened the kiss. It was pure bliss and my spark shivered in happiness. After a little while, you pulled away and asked me to sing for you again.

I watch as you lay on your side in my berth. I run my hand softly down your side as you recharge. Your exhausted I know, but I cant resist touching you. I still have a hard time believing that you love me as deeply as I love you, even though I see it in your optics each day. Tired optics flickered online to stare at me in amusement.

I smile as you push me onto my back and lean over me. You brush a kiss over my lips, but even so I can see your processor is preoccupied with something. Worry flickers through me that you've decided to end what we have. I stiffen in your arms and I know you've noticed. You sigh softly and lean next to my audials to whisper something. My optics widen behind my visor and I give a breathy laugh before ecstatically pulling you close and kissing you repeatedly. Breathing my answer in between the kisses.

I watch you as our sparks draw closer to each other. We have merged before, but this is different. This is permanent. This was forever. There is no hesitancy. We are both sure of this. I love you. And I know that if something ever happens to you, I will follow soon after.


	2. Veritas

**Disclaimer: **Don't own the Transformers. Nor do I make money off of this story.  
**Verse: **G1  
**Rating:** PG (I think)  
**Pairings:** Prowl x Jazz  
**Word Count:** 2.6k  
**Summary: **Prowl intentional downloads a virus in order to find a traitor. And to keep a bot that hates him from being offlined.

**Notes: **This was written as a birthday gift for Thalanee. I would like to thank Wicked3659 for her help in finding a proper name for the mission mandate.

**Title/Prompt:** _Veritas_

_The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed.  
-Eminem_

"Hang on just a click while I access the data banks"

Prowl whirled to face the saboteur, his spark dropping as he watched the mech extending a cable towards an interface port. "Jazz!"

Startled Jazz looked up, his hand freezing barely an inch away from the port. Prowl was at his side not even a second later, reaching out to grasp his hand and withdraw it from the console. Jazz jerked his hand away from the tactician.

"We need the information held in those banks, Prowl! I will not let this mission be wasted. I will not allow those two mechs lives to have been lost in vain!" Jazz snarled and shoved Prowl away, once again moving towards the console.

Prowl launched himself forward once again, this time grabbing the saboteur's arms and twisting them behind his back. He could feel the fury radiating from the frame pressed against his own. And he was quite aware of the fact that under normal circumstances, he would never have been able to hold the bots frame immobile. But desperation and the sharp tug deep in his spark lent him the energy to bring the mech under control.

"You will not access that console. That is a direct order." Prowl struggled to keep his voice cold, unemotional. But he was confused by several things. First and foremost, Jazz should have known, should have read the mandate on their mission. He should have been aware of the real reason they were here. And then there was his frames response to the bot being held tightly against him. He hadn't expected it to affect him to the point of having to forcefully slow his engine.

Jazz stopped struggling, and when Prowl was certain he would pay attention to the order, he let the mech go. Jazz turned to glare at the doorwinged bot. He had never liked the bot and it was something he had never hidden. But now, his visor glittered with absolute hatred.

"You're going to be the one to explain to the Prime why this mission was a failure. Why I lost two of my Ops. agents for nothing." Jazz stated coldly.

"Jazz..." Prowl sighed and moved towards the console, inserting his own cable into the port. "Didn't you even read the mission details?" His optics flickered as he delved into the enemies databanks. Hurriedly bypassing the inconsequential stuff, filing away the important stuff, all the while searching for the main reason he was here. He found it in a matter of seconds, or rather it found him. The download had barely finished when Jazz was yanking him away and shoving him to floor behind the console.

"The cons have found us again. And of course I read the mission details! Do you really think I'm that fragging incompetent?"

Confusion again swamped Prowl, but it was shoved aside as the virus he had just intentionally downloaded into his processor made itself known. Pain blossomed through out all of his systems. He collapsed on the floor, unaware of Jazz's cursing. It cleared briefly, long enough for him to feel Jazz's hand on his arm lifting him bodily from the floor. Then it came flooding back as a laser blast raked across one of his doorwings. His shriek was cut off as the pain shot through his processor, knocking him offline. He fell against Jazz, and the bot barely managed to keep the both of them from toppling over.

Jazz let out another string of curses that would have made Ratchet proud. Quickly getting rid of the two decepticons that had found them, Jazz began to retreat, carrying a heavy and unconscious Prowl with him. He was glad to put the base behind him and once he was a suitable distance away, he lowered Prowl to the ground behind some rocks. He sent out a coded request for a pick-up and then went to work on welding a patch to the gouge in Prowls left doorwing. He might not like the mech, but that didn't mean he wanted to see him die from losing too much energon.

After the patch job, he ran a scan over all of Prowls systems. Frowning as he realized that more and more of the mechs internal systems were beginning to shut down. And while damage to a Praxians doorwings could be serious, it should not have that much influence on the rest of his systems. He sat and watched the offline mech closely. Jazz could do some minor field repairs, mostly surface stuff. He had experience dealing with viruses and he could easily see that one was raging free in the bot in front of him. But while he could deal with one in his own systems, he had no idea how to help the bot laying on the ground. He was not a medic.

It was only a couple of breems later when Prowls systems stuttered and the mech began to thrash on the ground. Uncertain of what to do, Jazz moved so he was sitting beside the distraught mech. Careful so as not to jar his doorwings, Jazz slowly pulled the bot into his lap and wrapped his arms around him in an attempt to keep him from thrashing around too much. It could draw attention to their hiding spot and do more damage to Prowls already damaged wings.

Prowl stopped struggling almost instantly, curling into the warmth of the chassis against him. With a groan, his optics snapped online and raised to stare at Jazz almost disbelievingly. The mech refused to meet his gaze, and with a sigh, Prowl offlined them again. He had work to do after all. He activated his battle computer and set it to analyzing the virus, searching for the one line of code that would make this whole mission worthwhile. Silence reigned for a long time before Jazz spoke up so softly that Prowl almost didn't hear him.

"Prowl, why did you pull rank to access that console? My special ops training and firewalls could have handled that virus you picked up a lot easier." Jazz was careful to keep any emotion other then curiosity from his voice.

Prowl gave a snort which dissolved into several coughs. "I thought you said you read the Mission Mandate?"

Jazz frowned, unconsciously rubbing the mechs back to help sooth the coughing. "I did." He hesitated a moment as his processor rethought that. "Wait, the Mandate? I didn't receive one for this mission. Just the regular mission datapad."

"Ironhide was supposed to have delivered it to you. I would transmit you a copy, but that would risk you getting the virus." Prowl heaved a sigh.

Jazz frowned, not at all happy about the fact that important mission details had been kept from him. And Ironhide not delivering a mission mandate was unheard of. His thoughts were derailed though when Prowls frame seized and began to shake hard. He tightened his grip on the frame and waited helplessly for the shaking to diminish. As it did, Jazz found himself gently rubbing the edge of the uninjured doorwing. Jerking his hand away, he shifted uncomfortably.

"We obviously have time on our hands, why don't you just tell me what the mandate stated?"

"It stated that under no circumstances were you to access any system on the base. That my own firewalls had been updated in order to accomplish our mission." Prowl paused as his battle computer finished its computations. It provided a length of code, which usually he would have been able to decode, but as it were, he pushed the code into a protected area of his processor for Ratchet to find.

"Why in the pit would Prime or Ratchet agree to send you in?" It came out sounding a little more spiteful then Jazz had intended.

Prowl laughed which turned into a short coughing fit. "There was more to it, then that. Have you heard of the Pi-2x6 virus?"

"Is it a new virus?" Jazz frowned, noticing how closely he was holding the injured bot and slid out from under him. Gently leaning Prowl against one of the rocks, he moved to face him.

"Relatively new. There are two versions of it. It simply depends on who the virus is intended for and who receives it. The version I have is content with attacking and destroying all the systems it comes into contact with. The other version requires the processor codes of the intended target. Once downloaded into the recipients databanks, it activates the codes and enters the processor directly. It will then shut the processor down and destroy it. Effectively killing the bot."

"That would require a medic of high standing." Jazz stilled, the idea of a traitor in the medical division sending chills down his struts.

"Yes." Prowls voice softened, getting weaker. "That was part of my mission. Contract the virus and have my battle computer analyze it to find out who the traitor was."

"Have you discovered who it is?" Jazz watched the weakening bot with concerned optics. Talking seemed to be wearing down the tacticians defenses even faster. But he needed to know who the traitor was.

"Yes, well to a degree. I've isolated a segment of code that is the originators code. At the moment I can't decode it, but Ratchet should be able to." His frame vibrated slightly, not yet escalating to the full out shaking it had been experiencing.

Jazz moved back over to sit beside him, attempting to offer a comforting presence even though he knew he was the last one Prowl would want that from. " I still don't understand why it had to be you. You are important to the cause. And my systems are designed from the ground up to handle stuff like this."

Prowl reached over and grasped Jazz's hand with a surprising strength. "You are important as well. We had received several messages that you were the virus's next intended victim. I couldn't allow you to be offlined. I would have preferred you hadn't even been on the mission. But you were the only one that could get us in that easily."

Jazz sat in stunned silence, unable to think of a response. The intonation in Prowls voice hinted that there was more to his words then work or even the autobot cause. He was saved from trying to find a suitable answer by the sound of engines racing across the land. Standing, he ran a scan to identify the newcomers. After a couple seconds his frame relaxed as his scans indicated several autobot signals. He turned to tell the tactician that help had arrived only to find him offline. He stared at the bot for a few minutes and realized he could no longer bring forth the hate that usually surged to the surface when near him. A moment later he was shoved aside as Ratchet rushed by. Quickly moving to provide room for the medic to work, he turned to give Prime the mission details.

It was much, much later that Jazz silently let himself into the medbay. A report from Ratchet had stated that the virus had been purged, and that the damage had been repaired. Prowl was resting overnight in the medbay. The traitor had been identified and taken care off. Something Jazz had wanted to do himself, but had been sent off to recharge by both the Prime and Ratchets orders. Red Alert had managed to verify that it had been the traitor that had intercepted the datapad carrying the mission mandate on it as well.

But he shoved all that aside as he moved towards the berth that held the tactician. He was uncertain as to why he was here. They weren't friends. And it wasn't that far of a stretch to say that it hadn't been that long ago that he had actually carried a rather strong dislike for the uptight commander. But the mission had allowed him to see another side of Prowl. One that intrigued him. And then there were those final words. Words that seemed to strike at something unknown in his spark.

Nearing the berth, he sank into the chair next to it, watching quietly as the mech recharged. His systems purring almost silently. He had almost forgotten how quiet the mech could be. The noise his systems had made while under the influence of the virus had been quite loud. He studied Prowl, allowing his optics to take in things he had never taken time to do so before. The strong frame, the black and white coloring that complimented his own, the ever expressive doorwings, which had begun to twitch. He jerked his gaze up to meet an amused pair of optics.

And as he stared into the optics, he found his own spark was beating harder. He reached out a tentative hand to touch the side of Prowls face, stroking softly along its strong edges, before he quickly jerked it back. He shifted uncomfortably, slightly torn between wanting to touch and knowing he didn't have the right. He turned to gaze at the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but at Prowl.

"Jazz, are you alright?"

Jazz gave a snort. "I should be asking you that."

"But its not what you really want to ask."

"Why, Prowl? I mean I know why, but _why_?" Jazz finally brought his visor covered optics back to gaze at the tactician in confusion.

"Because I care about you. I know we never see optic to optic about things, but somewhere along the line I found myself caring what happened to you. I couldn't allow you to access that console." Prowls voice dropped to a whisper. "If you had received the virus instead of me... I don't think I could have handled it."

Jazz stared in shocked disbelief at the mech. Once again stunned into silence. It was becoming a common occurrence around the tactician. The emotion in Prowls voice touched something in his spark. He opened his mouth then closed it again as Prowl began speaking softly again.

"I know you don't like me. And I know we aren't friends. But you asked, and that is why."

Still silent, Jazz was uncertain how to respond. So he decided to follow his spark instead. Reaching out, he took on of Prowls hands in his, smiling slightly when it was gripped tightly.

"I'd like to think we are friends now, Prowl." He paused, watching the blue optics widen slightly. "And something in my spark tells me we could be more. I would like the chance to find out."

"I would like that." A full smile swept across Prowls faceplates, and Jazz's spark skipped a beat.

Prowl gave a tug on Jazz's hands pulling him closer. He obliged, leaning in until he could lean his helm against Prowls. Jazz nuzzled in against the side of Prowls face, smiling softly when the bot turned to brush his lips across his own. The mechs jumped back from each other in the next moment as a furious Ratchet entered the medbay.

"Jazz! What the frag are you doing here? Your supposed to be recharging!" Ratchet glared until Jazz had stood up and moved away from the berth.

"Just visiting a friend, Ratchet." The saboteur shot him a cheeky grin before walking to the doors, turning back as they slid open. "I'll see you when Ratchet turns you loose." And with that he swung back around gracefully and exited.

Ratchet stared after the mech for a moment before turning to Prowl. "Was he bothering you again? I can have him banned from the medbay for the duration of your stay. Slagging bot can't even let a mech rest in peace. I still don't understand why he dislikes you so much."

Prowl grinned happily. "That is unnecessary, Ratchet. As he said, he was only visiting a friend."


	3. A Thousand Vorns Later

**Disclaimer:** Transformers belongs to its respective owners, and no harm was intended in this.

**Notes:** I really have no idea where this came from. It started last night while I was at work and the thought of a Second Golden Age came to me, and it grew and bugged me until the moment I got home and was able to sit down and begin writing.

* * *

**Title: A Thousand Vorns Later**

It was the Second Golden Age. A thousand vorns after the great war. Cybertron was rebuilt. Her people flourishing in a time of peace and happiness. What had once been a battlefield now held vast, glorious cities. Mechs, femmes, younglings, and sparklings of all sizes and types moved about these cities. Some hurried to work while others played in the park. Some glided over the cities, their wings glinting in the sun while others zoomed along highways on their hover jets.

Iacon was no exception. The hustle and bustle of everyday life went on, oblivious to the one mech standing motionlessly observing it all. Unlike the slender, light armored frames that were used these days, the mech seemed out of place in his bulky, heavy black and white armor. At one time, huge cannons had set upon his shoulders, an acid rifle often within reach. Now, even after so much time, it felt strange for the weapons to be gone.

He was an old one. One of the few that had seen the great war to its conclusion left. His battle armor was a salute to those who had not been as fortunate. His frame still bore the scars of war. What had once been glossy and vibrant armor was now faded and dark. Grey tinged the edges of his doorwings and had begun to tint the tips of his red chevron. Obvious signs of a spark that had grown tired of living and had begun to fade away.

Prowl jerked as his alarm sounded once again. Sighing he silenced it and turned from the view of the beautiful city to make his way towards his appointment. He was late. A thousand vorns ago it would never have happened. Now though, it didn't seem to matter as much. As he walked, too tired to actually transform, bots waved and smiled. They saw him as a hero. He just felt lost and alone.

Apologizing to the teacher for his tardiness, he turned to the students he would be addressing today. They were younglings, staring at him with bright and curious optics. Too young to learn of war and everything it could mean. But time and again he had been asked to speak at schools just like this one. The Prime hoped that if knowledge was spread, that such a thing would never happen again. He had his doubts, but he did as requested because it gave him a reason to go on. Gathering his thoughts, he set his cpu to organizing what he would be discussing with them.

"I am Prowl. During the Great War I was a tactician and Second in Command of the Autobots. I am here to teach you about that war. Why it started. The sacrifices bots made so that Cybertron could return to what it once was."

Prowl continued on, describing the war and the bots that had fought in it. As he spoke, he was surprised to find that every youngling in the room was riveted on his story. During meetings, he had put bots to sleep with his lectures, yet the young mechs and femmes were watching with interest as he projected pictures and memories onto a large monitor. At some of gruesome aspects of war (which he had gotten permission to show) little femmes raised hands to cover their mouths, while mechs had disgust written across their faceplates. He paused for a moment to catch his barrings, and a small pastel yellow femme with big golden optics raised her hand.

"My carrier says that it wasn't allowed for bots to bond during the war. Is that true? And if so, Why?"

Prowl shifted uneasily. His doorwings twitching slightly. He should have foreseen this line of questioning. But he hadn't and he sent a quick questioning pulse to the teacher, who nodded back at him. They wanted the students to know everything about the war. Too much had been forgotten.

"Bonding was frowned upon. It wasn't completely outlawed, but it wasn't encouraged either. Sparkbonding between to individuals is permanent. It binds the two sparks as one. If one dies, the other invariably follows. If bots grew close, they had to make a decision. Sparkbond and risk the pain and suffering of feeling the one you love die and then the pain of your own spark fading, or stay together without bonding. This choice was the one most often chosen. It was still a painful choice as we Cybertronians thrive on connecting with those we love." He paused and the same femme spoke up again.

"Were there more options? "

He sighed and his doorwings drooped. "For some there was only one other option. To attempt to forget the other existed, to put the war first."

A small grey and black polyhexian raised his hand this time."Did you ever have to make such a choice? And if so, what happened? Do you regret your choice?"

Prowl froze, his spark thundering in his chest as old memories threatened to barge free of the fragile firewalls he had hidden them behind. So loud was the noise reverberating in his frame that he nearly missed the teacher gently scolding the students on asking such personal questions. Regaining control, he waved a dismissive hand and stated that he was here to discuss everything about the war and that it included personal experiences.

"I did find the one mech that I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life with. As we were both highly ranked officers, Sparkbonding was never an option. We argued for ages and it was my final decision to go our separate ways. I believed at the time that it was for the best. That we would only distract each other from our duties. And yes I regret that choice. Everyday that I live."

Hands raised around the room as more mechs and femmes began asking questions. Some pertained to the life of a warrior, some asking what exactly it was like to be out in the battlefield, others wanting to know what earth had been like back then.

He was in the middle of describing in detail the mechanics of infiltrating and deactivating an enemy base, when a hush fell over the younglings. He was absorbed in the speech, concentrating on getting the information correct so he didn't notice that he had finally lost the attention of not only the students but the teacher as well. Their optics turned to the door that had slid silently open behind the praxian.

A lithe silver framed mech entered quietly, motioning with a finger across his lips as he locked his gaze on the black and white bots back. Hushed giggles sounded from the femmes as he moved to stand directly behind Prowl. A thousand vorns ago he would never have been able to get that close without the sensitive doorwings picking up on his location. Now he frowned as he noticed the tinge of grey on their edges. They shifted, and he curbed the urge to touch.

Prowl paused in his lecture, optics moving to gaze at the younglings as he attempted to figure out what he might have said that would have been amusing. A soft whisper of sound from behind him had his doorwings twitching, but before he could turn to see who was there, strong arms circled his waist. A thin lightly armored frame pushed up against his back in between the wings. He went completely still as his battle computer flared to life, sending a hundred ways to counter the attack. It went silent though as his spark recognized the one beating against his back. He whirled, forgetting where he was, forgetting everything but the mech in front of him. The frame was different, but there was no hiding the familiar visor. Prowl gaped at a mech that he had been certain had died.

Jazz smiled, raising a hand to gently caress Prowls cheek before pulling the bot into a passionate kiss. They lost themselves in each other, ignoring the sighs from the femmes, the sounds of disgust from the mechlings, and the soft smile on the teachers face. She had been the one to get in contact with Jazz to let him know that Prowl would be here today.

Vorns and vorns of searching. Of always being a day or even a few short hours late. It had begun to seem as if fate had wanted to keep him from Prowl. Desperation had set in and he had sent out a notice across the info-highway requesting any news on where the bot might be. When he had finally received a response stating that Prowl would be here, today, He had been ecstatic.

The noise the younglings were making grew and the two bots reluctantly pulled away from each other. Prowl raised his hands to gently touch the beautiful face that he had tried, but never forgotten. He pressed his forehead against Jazz's, feeling his spark begin to beat and pulse with life once again.

"How?" He whispered, almost as if he was afraid Jazz would vanish. "We thought you were dead. Mirage.."

"My frame was dead." Jazz paused and pressed a kiss into Prowls palm at the whimper of pain from the former tactician. "My spark was barely there, but a neutral medic managed to save it. By the time I was strong enough to return on my own, the war was over. I've spent every moment since searching for you."

A round of aww's went up from the younglings as Prowl melted against the former saboteur. A vocalizer clearing was the only thing that kept him from kissing Jazz senseless. He glanced at the smiling teacher and at the younglings watching them avidly and blushed deeply. Jazz laughed and curled into his side as he attempted to finish the lecture. Soon though the younglings were getting up to leave, and Jazz was gently leading him from the room.

"Come love, Lets go home."

And as Prowl stepped out into the sunlight, it seemed a lot brighter then when he had entered.


	4. Sabotage!

**Title:** Sabotage!  
**'Verse: **G1 Pre-War  
**Rating:** Pg:13  
**Characters/Pairings: **Jazz/Prowl, Sideswipe, mentions of Ironhide and several recruits.  
**Warnings: **Crack with a dash of Slash  
**Disclaimer:** Transformers belongs to its respective owners, and no money was made from this story.

**Summary:** All's fair in love and war, so when the normal methods of rousting infiltrators fail, a new method is concocted.

**Notes:** I was watching Disney's Valiant and there's a scene where one of the french resistance mice goes crazy when the word sabotage was spoken. I could totally see Jazz in that role, and so this story was born. This has been revised from its original version. Im not sure how happy i am with it yet as i seem to be having trouble writing the more intimate parts. Hope you guys like it though.

_**Sabotage!**_

Jazz sat staring at Prowl in stunned disbelief. When he had made the wager with Sideswipe, he had fully expected to have to use some underhanded trick to get his friend to go along with it. To have Prowl read over the mission plan, read the terms of the bet, and then calmly inform Jazz that he would assist him, was just plain shocking. Prowl continued to speak, refining the mission details, oblivious to Jazz staring at him as if he had sprouted a second set of doorwings and turned into a turbo-fly. With a shake of his helm, Jazz quickly pulled himself together.

"Are you sure you can do this? I mean, its a bit out of you-" Jazz paused as a set of vibrant blue optics focused on him.

"I would not have agreed to do so if I thought I was incapable." Prowls doorwings tilted disdainfully.

"Yeah but-" Jazz floundered for a way to say it so that it would not come out as an insult. "This type of thing isn't really your forte, if you know what I mean."

Prowl leaned over his desk, his optics catching and holding Jazz's attention. "While it is annoying that you do not have more confidence in my abilities, if it will help, I will make a side wager with you."

The very prospect of Prowl offering to make a bet with him floored him more then the acceptance of the first one had. Jazz spluttered for a moment before managing to reclaim his cool and relaxed posture, he leaned forward slightly, bringing himself closer to Prowl.

"What type of side wager?"

Prowls optics flashed and a smirk settled over his faceplates, causing Jazz's engine to hitch slightly.

"When I pull this off, and we discover the traitor, I get anything I want from you. Any one thing."

Jazz rose to the challenge instantly. If he won this little bet of theirs, he could ask anything of Prowl and have it granted. Oh, the ideas. He could have Prowl join him on a mission, accompany him to a party, or Jazz could request something more personal. Like being allowed to touch those tempting doorwings, or maybe even a kiss. The last couple of ideas had his frame heating up slightly.

"I accept, and if you don't come across convincingly enough, I'm allowed to claim any one thing from you instead."

"Deal." Prowl stood and offered his hand to Jazz. He clasped the tacticians hand and smiled.

"This is going to be fun."

-^^^^VVVV^^^^-

Prowl stood in the center of the training room. Most of the items that usually littered the room had been put away or shoved against a wall to make room for the introductory meeting scheduled for the new recruits. Ironhide stood just inside the double reinforced doors, cleaning one of his blasters. Sideswipe leaned against a wall at the back of the room, watching the other mechs intently. In front of Prowl stood twenty new recruits, all shifting and looking like the inexperienced bots they were. At Prowls right elbow stood Jazz, at a relaxed attention, with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet slightly apart. If he hadn't know it was a part of their plan, He might have been worried about his friends stillness. Jazz didn't do stillness.

As he waited for the mechs to settle down, he thought about his role in the upcoming "mission". Jazz's ideas on what his behavior should be were careful to include Prowls own strict rules on public displays. He believed that mechs should be calm and collected, not rambunctious and full of sparkling energy. But there was something his friend had yet to learn about him. While it was rare for him to participate in a wager or even make one, when he did, it was with the intention of winning. He kept his smirk from his faceplates. He had every intention of winning and claiming his prize from Jazz. And if that included varying from their plan, he would definitely do so.

He cleared his vocalizer, gaining the new recruits attention instantly.

"I am Prowl, Second in Command and Head Tactician. This is Jazz, Third in Command and Head of the Special Operations Division."

A blue and green mini-bot that only came to about waist high, tentatively raised a hand. "What does the Special Operations do? Are they a combat team?"

Prowl studied the mini-bot before answering, aware of Jazz doing the same. "Special Ops is an elite division, composed of only the best. They specialize in the nastier bits of war. Going behind enemy lines, infiltrating a base, acquiring information for my team to work with, not to mention demolitions and sabo-"

He paused and took a step closer to the mechs infront of him before leaning in as if he was going to divulge a secret. "Sabotage." Prowl whispered the word, knowing even so that Jazz's sensitive audios would pick it up.

Jazz's visor flashed wildly and he jerked hard before beginning to dance and jump randomly around the room. His vocalizer crackled as he laughed maniacally in between screeching out the word _Sabotage!. _The new recruits drew back, the TIC's abnormal behavior startling them. They cowered further when the mech pulled out duel blasters and began firing haphazardly around the room. Sideswipe laughed, then instantly muted it as a blast hit the wall next to his helm.

Another shot barely missed the mini-bot that was now shrieking in fear. Prowl glanced at Ironhide, and the weapons master nodded before moving closer to the group. Prowl turned back to Jazz and as the mech danced past, he grabbed a firm hold on his arm. He murmured something softly to Jazz and the mech stopped moving instantly.

"He is rather unstable, isn't he?" A recruit spoke up.

Jazz stiffened and would have launched himself into another bout of craziness if it hadn't been for Prowls firm grip on his arm. His processor blanked out for a moment at Prowls next action though. The mech had placed a hand on his back and drew it down, slowly, comfortingly.

"Oh, we know how to handle him. He is only truly dangerous to the decepticons."

Jazz had to fight to remember their game, and he gave a jerk away from that tantalizing touch. What happened next, startled him so much he wouldn't have been able to react if Megatron himself had suddenly entered the room.

Prowl tugged Jazz close against his chassis and raised a hand to trail a finger softly over the mechs audial horn. Jazz melted into the contact, pressing into the touch and leaning against Prowl. His engine revved hard as Prowl gave a low chuckle.

The new recruits shifted uneasily, beginning to wonder just what type of mechs ran the autobot army. The little mini-bot looked more terrified then the others, his optics glued to the Second and Third in Command.

"What does he do to decep-" The mini-bot paused as Jazz turned his helm to look at him, then continued, changing what he was saying at the last moment, "-them." He finished lamely.

Sideswipe pushed away from where he had been leaning against the wall and made his way towards the group, causing those that recognized him to shift their gazes from their unstable commander to him then back again.

"He eats their sparks for breakfast and then melts their frames down to be used for furniture." Sideswipe grinned as nearly as maniacally as Jazz had earlier.

The mini-bot freaked, backing up until he collided with Ironhide. He began babbling, nearly rivaling Bluestreak.

"They made me do it! Megatron said he would kill me if I didn't! Please don't eat my spark! Ill tell you everything I know! Ill even switch sides!"

Ironhide gave a rumbling laugh, causing the mini-bot to cower and back away from him. The red mech reached out and caught the mini-bot, quickly restraining him with stasis-cuffs. As he was led to the exit, the mini-bots shaking slowly eased. He was obviously very happy to be leaving the crazed autobot command staff behind.

Prowl shifted away from his contact with Jazz's frame and finished up the meeting as if nothing had happened. Handing out instructions for the coming orns, the two mechs watched as the remaining recruits exited the room, chatting excitedly. As the last one passed through the door, Sideswipe moved forward to face his commanders with a grin.

"You do realize you just helped us win the bet?" Jazz couldn't help pointing out.

Sideswipe shrugged. "One always expects to lose when betting against the two of you."

Prowl tilted his helm, studying the red twin. "You made the bet expecting to lose? That seems rather illogical."

"Logic had nothing to do with it. I was bored, you needed a solution to finding the infiltrator, and it was fun" Sideswipe grinned and rocked back on his heels. "You have my word, no annoying the officers, no pranks and no skirting my work shifts for the period of a half vorn. I cannot however speak for my brother."

Prowl nodded. "Understood."

Sideswipe left with a jaunty wave, saying something about terrorizing his twin. Neither officer bore a smidgen of envy for Sunstreaker, though they might have felt a bit of pity.

Jazz stood still, his optics dimmed as he shifted through his memory of the last few minutes. Prowl had been his friend for vorns, and while he might have entertained some fantasies about the mech, he had never seen a sign that the mech might have been interested in more. Now, Jazz was slightly off balance as he wondered if what had happened was real, or if Prowl had faked it in order to win the bet. He snapped out of his reverie as Prowl moved towards the door to the now empty training room.

"Hey Prowl, wait up."

Prowl stopped and turned slightly to face him, one doorwing tilted slightly to the side and an optic ridge raised in question.

"You won the bet." Jazz crossed the distance between them quickly, watching as the tactician turned to face him fully. "Name the one thing you want from me."

Prowl studied the saboteurs face for a moment before allowing a small smile to tilt the corners of his lips. "Maybe there's nothing more I want."

"Nothing?" Jazz moved closer until his chassis was pressing gently against Prowls. "Are you sure about that?" He lowered his voice to a purr, leaving no doubt what his next words meant. "It could be explosive."

"As Wheeljack has demonstrated on multiple occasions, explosions leave a lot of damage behind."

Jazz pressed himself closer, running his hands up over Prowls chest to curl about his neck. "Don't think you could handle me?"

Prowl leaned in, bringing his lips within an inch of Jazz's. "I know I could handle you. But could you handle me?"

Jazz's engine revved and he whimpered softly at the brush of air from Prowl that ghosted over his lips. With a wicked grin, Prowl pulled away and headed towards the door. Leaving Jazz frozen where he was, staring after the mech with his processor wrapped in a fog of lust. Prowl had just stepped through the door when Jazz snapped out of it and bolted after the tactician.

After all, he really did love explosions. The more dangerous, the better.


	5. Letters from Home

Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to those own it. Not me.

Notes: Inspired by Lonestars: Im already There. May yet be rewritten.

Letters from Home.

Prowl leaned against the wall just inside the doors to the rec room. His optics drifted over the quiet mechs slowly, picking out the differences. Normally at any given time day or night the rec room was a bustle of mechs. Playing music, games or just chatting. At the moment none of that was happening. Mechs sat quietly, staring at their energon. The rooms atmosphere a decidedly morbid one. His gaze caught on the red and gold armor of the front-liner twins, and he let out a vent of air at their dejected postures. It had been ages since the last prank from Sideswipe. Even Jazz, the smart, beautiful, funny, music loving Jazz, was silent and had been for longer then he wished to consider.

With a sigh he left the room, heading back towards his own office. The war was bringing all of them down. Every lost battle, every mech that didn't come back, every time they took a look at their ripped apart and dieing planet, a piece of them died as well. Many had begun to wonder just what they were fighting for. And Prowl was one of them. He knew why it had started, knew what he had fought for originally. But now, with so much loss surrounding them and no hope for a bright tomorrow, why bother? Why fight a losing battle? They should cut their losses and leave. If the decepticons wanted a dieing planet, why not just let them have it?

He returned to his office, dreading the work he had to do today. Normally he liked the reports that crossed his desk. But the single data-pad awaiting him was the kind he hated. It was a causality report from the last battle. Six mechs had offlined. While it wasn't technically his job, he always investigated each death and if the mech did have family that was not with the Autobots, he felt it his duty to inform the survivors of the death. He hated being the bearer of bad news even though he always tried to find some way to soften the blow. But how do you tell someone that a loved one is dead without it nearly killing their spark? He knew, deep inside his own spark, that if the mech he loved ever died it would certainly kill him as well.

The noise of his door sliding open caught his attention and he glanced up to see Blaster standing there with a box of data-pads in his arms.

"Sir, we received these this morning and they're not addressed to any specific mech. I was uncertain what to do with them."

"I'll take a look, just set them over there." Prowl gave an absent wave of his hand towards the edge of the desk.

It was several joors before he was able to check out the data-pads, but as he read through the first one, doorwings that had drooped without his knowledge slowly perked up. The note was short, unlike anything he had read before, and it was from a neutral.

"_Dear Autobot,_

_My name is Jadespark. I am a neutral youngling living in the southern sector. I am writing this letter to thank you for service to our world, our people. Please know that we, the mechs and femmes of Cybertron, thank you for your commitment to our freedom. We are there with you and will welcome you with open arms when you finally return. _

_Respectfully,_

_Jadespark."_

Prowl shuttered his optics and then on-lined them again. It was such a simple letter, yet it was a powerful reminder of what they fought for. He picked up the next datapad and read through it slowly. He went through all of them, giving each of them the courtesy due. Some were longer, some just saying thanks. As he finished the last one, he replaced all of them back in the box. Some would require answering, but he didn't think it was his place to do so. For the first time for a very long time, he left his office with a small smile curling his lips and his doorwings standing at attention on his back.

Reentering the rec room, he set the box on the table with a soft thud. Not a single mech looked his direction.

"Jazz."

Jazz glanced up then did a double take at the soft smile gracing the tacticians face. When the mech made a motion for him to come forward, he did so out of curiosity, his visored optics still latched onto the amused face of his commanding officer. Prowl handed him a data-pad and he read it quickly, skimming over it, before stopping and reading it in earnest.

"Please see to it that these get distributed." Prowl could see the changed already taking place in the saboteur. His visor lightened and his posture straightened. And for the very first time in a long while, the mech smiled brightly.

Reluctantly, Prowl left, he still had work to do after all. At the end of his shift though he was back, leaning against the wall just inside the door of the rec room. The complete reversal of atmosphere was apparent. Mechs were laughing, talking, some even singing and dancing. The box he had brought the data-pads in now sat empty. The data-pads themselves were being passed from mech to mech. Every so often someone would claim one, stating the intention to respond. He stepped away from the wall and turned to leave, happy that the the crew was happy once again.

Arms encircled his waist from behind and a frame pressed against his back. He smiled, leaning back into the embrace of his mate, contentedly. He rarely allowed public displays, but it had been so long since one had even been offered. He turned and wrapped his own arms around Jazz tightly, loving the feel of the mech as he pressed his helm into Prowls shoulder.

"It's just what they needed, Prowl. What we all needed. A reminder of what we are fighting for."

"While it is encouraging that the neutrals do appreciate what we are doing, they aren't the main reason I fight." Prowl pulled away from Jazz just enough to place a kiss on the top of the mechs helm.

"Why do you fight then?" Jazz leaned up for a proper kiss only to growl as Prowl pressed a kiss to each of his audial horns instead.

"For you. Always and forever. You come first." Prowl captured his mates lips then, silencing him with a deep and passionate kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Transformers are not mine. -Pouts-

Notes: Rather angsty drabble. Character death, of a sort. I have no idea if I will expand on this one or not.

Title: -Unnamed Drabble-

Horrified optics followed the almost graceful curve the orange ship carved into the night sky. He struggled suddenly, straining against the cuffs binding his arms behind him, fighting to yell, scream or even cry through the block surrounding his vocalizer. The Ark had left. Without him. Unable to do much else, he slumped, doorwings sagging as he watched the Nemesis lift off and follow the Ark.

He was Second in Command. He should be up there, fighting, shouting tactical orders, helping his friends and fellow officers. But no, he was here. Held prisoner by a mech he had thought a friend. A mech that hadn't been the same in nearly a vorn. Never the same, not since that infernal contraption of Wheeljacks had exploded and thrust him into the future. He had come back several orns later, simply appearing out of nowhere with a haunted and pained expression on his faceplates. No one, not even the Prime had been able to get him to talk about it.

As the Ark and Nemesis vanished amongst the stars, Jazz bowed his head. He had betrayed his Prime, held a superior officer captive, and had probably lost one of the most dear friends he had ever had. He offlined his optics and shuddered. He didn't regret it though. There was no way he could. Not after the future he had seen. It haunted him. Oh sure, they had won the war. But at what cost? Too many lives lost. But of all those lost, only one had nearly stopped his spark. Forcing him to realize something he had never even thought of.

He was tired. Ever so tired. He rarely recharged anymore because the images from that future broke free from the cages he had hid them in and haunted him. A slowly graying version of himself, so broken and lonely that life no longer held any meaning for him. Memories that had been forced into his processor by a desperate mech would flood unhindered if he let down his guard for more then a click or two. Memories that were his and yet not his. Video files hacked from the black box of a doomed shuttle. A blaster hit to the chest, liquid fire pouring from between screaming lips. The memories played in reverse, rewinding quickly. Starting from the devastated emotions that the video had brought forward to missed chances, to time spent with a mech he should have been loving all along.

A pained noise from behind him had Jazz whirling, his visor flaring as his optics onlined. He stared at the struggling Prowl and quickly forced the memories that were not his own away and behind their bars once again. He moved forward, wincing as the bound mech leaned away from him, and removed the block he had placed on Prowls vocalizer. Hurt, anger, betrayal and a number of static filled curses spilled out into the night air. He waited until Prowl tired and stopped struggling before removing the mechs bindings. He brought up a hand to brush against cheekplates and gave a sad smile at the accusing look he received.

"I'm sorry, Prowl."

He turned and walked away. Away from a mech that had in the span of a few orns in another time had come to mean more to him then his own life. A mech that now hated him. But that was alright. At least he would live.


	7. Saving Praxus

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Notes: A very big thanks to anothersquirrel at lj for the use of the Rubidium Crystal Track and Velocity Loop track. Racing adds an element to Praxus that i love.

Title: Saving Praxus

"You destroyed Praxus!" Prowl stared in horror at the ruins laid out before him.

"I did not!"

"Jazz! There's not a single building left standing!" Prowls horror faded and was quickly replaced with anger.

Jazz wilted. "I didn't mean to! I was just practicing my turns."

Prowl glared at him, his winglets trembling with held in anger. "I spent over a vorn building that and you destroyed it in under a click."

"I''ll help you rebuild it." Jazz hurried to offer.

"Look at it! There's no way to fix it! Watch where your going next time." The youngling turned and marched off, anger still radiating from the mechlings frame.

Jazz watched his friend walk away, blinking to clear his optics of the cleaner that had started to well up. He gave a sigh and turned back to the mess on the floor. It had once been a rather large table with a diorama of Praxus on it. Prowl had been working on building the city for as long as he could remember. Now the table was laying on the floor, its legs shattered, and the city itself had been completely destroyed. He let his shoulders droop as he knelt beside the mess. Pulling a box over he began to clean up the pieces of the city. Hoping with all his spark that Prowl would be able to forgive him eventually.

4 millenia and several hundred vorns later:

Jazz placed the last crystal on the table carefully and adjusted it so that it sat just right. He straightened and stretched, surprised that he had been there long enough for his joints to stiffen. He gave a grin of satisfaction as he inspected the diorama of Praxus. It had taken hundreds of vorns, not counting the millenia spent in stasis, to rebuild it. He'd had to find pieces that had went missing, remake others that had been too shattered to fix and locate pictures and vids of Praxus to work with. But it was finally done. And he couldn't wait to show Prowl.

It had started out as a younglings building set and he had rebuilt it. But with the fall of the actual city, he had decided to put more effort into the diorama and had ended up practically rebuilding it from the bottom up. It was as identical to the original city as he could make it. Tall towers and ornate buildings all situated to promote beauty and harmony. In the center were the Crystal Gardens, designed with actual pieces of crystal taken from the ruins of the original gardens. They were no longer vibrant and alive, but they were still impressive. And yet as he studied the cityscape, he could tell something was missing.

With a snap of his fingers, the saboteur exited the small room and locked the door. The room was actually a closed off part of his office with a security system that not even the Prime could access. Many a mech had labeled it as the Room of Doom, although he still had no clear idea as to why they did so.

A quick trip to Wheeljack's lab and he was back in the tiny room, leaning over the table. Using a wireless connection he connected the modulator he had acquired into the computer system in his outer office. It took him nearly a joor to program it and when he was finally done, he activated it. Settling back into his chair with a delighted grin on his faceplates, he watched the changes the modulator introduced to the mini-city. Now satisfied that it was indeed complete, he shut off the modulator and covered the city with a large cloth. Exiting the room he locked it once more and headed off to find his bonded.

It wasn't that hard to locate Prowl. All he had to do was follow the pull on his spark and it led him straight to his mate. Who, of course, just had to be in a meeting with the Prime. Feeling disappointed that he couldn't drag Prowl out of there, he settled in a nearby chair to pout as he half listened in as they argued the merits of allowing a resident human ambassador on the Ark. As he grumpily sulked, Jazz became aware of Prowls questioning prods at the bond between their sparks. He smirked at his mate and pulsed reassurance back.

As soon as the meeting ended however, Jazz bounced to his feet and latched onto a startled Prowl and practically drug the mech back to his office. The confused amusement coming from the tactician at being taken to Jazz's office instead of his own was apparent for a few clicks before it was squashed by instant desire as the TIC pulled him close and kissed him.

"Jazz?" Prowls voice whispered huskily as his mate pulled away.

"Shhhhh. I have a surprise for you, but I want you to offline your optics first." Jazz leaned against Prowl's chassis and pressed a finger over his lips as he spoke.

"Why-?"

"Trust me?" Jazz grinned slightly, thought it was betrayed by a slight nervousness over the bond.

Prowl leaned in for another kiss. "Always."

Jazz watched with a small smile as his optics darkened and cycled off completely. As they did though, the ever sensitive doorwings flared and lifted to compensate automatically. Reaching out he brushed a finger along the edge of the closest and smirked when it trembled.

"Lower these behind your back. No peeking."

His laughed softly as a disgruntled Prowl lowered the offending wings. Stepping away from his mate he moved to the door of the little room and swiftly unlocked it. A moment later he was back at Prowls side and gently catching a hold of his arm to draw him forward. The room was barely large enough to hold the two of them and the table, but they could manage. After shutting the door, Jazz removed the cover from the table. He turned to his mate anxiously. This could either be a good thing or it could bring up memories best left buried. He hoped it would be the first and not the latter.

"You can look now." Jazz voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

Prowls optics brightened and lit up, whirring and adjusting before focusing on the table. He froze and stared in shock at the city. Jazz reached out and softly touched the tallest tower causing lights to flicker on all over the city. Buildings lit up, streetlights cast soft glows over the streets and the crystals began to flicker and glow with random colored lights. He touched the hidden button again and a soft hum started from the holographic modulator he had added that morning. Almost instantly the city came alive. Holographic mechs and femmes of all ages and frame types appeared. There were a majority of Praxians of course, but there were also frame types from all over Cybertron present.

Prowl continued to stare transfixed at the city, watching as Aerials swooped over the city and looped around the towering buildings. Black and white Enforcers patrolled the streets. Mechs and femmes moved about in root mode and in vehicle mode throughout the city. His gaze caught on the prominent features of the Rubidium Crystal Track and its 10 levels of race tracks, complete even with Cybertronians in hover car mode racing around the tracks. Almost automatically his optics sought out and found the Velocity Loop track. It was smaller and frequented more often by those who wished to escape the tourist traps and race for the fun of it. The whole city was amazing and he slowly raised his optics to stare at his mate.

"You hate it don't you?" Jazz whispered when Prowl failed to say anything.

Prowl reached out and pulled an unresisting Jazz into his arms and kissed him thoroughly, smirking as he pulled away and left Jazz staring dazedly at him.

"It's amazing, I can't believe you went to that much trouble. What made you build it?" He leaned back in and pressed a kiss to an audial, causing Jazz to shiver.

"Remember that building set I destroyed when we were younglings? Originally I just rebuilt that and planned on giving it to you. But then the actual city was destroyed and I found those crystals and it just seemed a waste to not use them, but the building set was rather plain. I wanted to capture the city's beauty for you. So I rebuilt it. Took ages to find the stuff for it." Jazz nuzzled his helm into his mates neck as he spoke.

"Thank you, love. I think it should be shared though. I think it would be a great reminder for the crew of what we are fighting for. Would you mind?" He stroked his palms down Jazz's back and pulled the mech even tighter against him.

"Of course not." He smiled and lifted for a kiss and they were the last words spoken for quite some time.

Several days later, mechs in the rec room were gathered around the table holding the miniature city. A clear case had been added to protect it. Prowl had requested it, stating that he didn't want a repeat performance of Jazz's original accident. An energy efficient battery had been hidden amongst the buildings to power the lights and holograms. The last finishing touch had been a small plaque added at the entrance of the city.

It read:

City: Praxus

Model designed and built by: Jazz

Owner: Prowl

Warning: Touch and Die.


	8. Snippets Part 1

Disclaimer: Transformers still aren't mine.

**Snippet 1**

**Title: Boom-boom**

The small sparkling bounced, his black and white armor streaked with paint and energon goody residue. He laughed and raised his arms excitedly towards his creator.

"'Nother song! Song!"

Jazz grinned and leaned down so that his visored optics were level with his creations. "Another song? Which one do you want to hear?"

"Boom-boom song!" The sparkling squealed when Jazz tweaked his chin.

Jazz laughed again and stood up, aware that his mate had just entered their quarters and was now leaning against the wall, watching them. He began to sing, making small funny motions with his hands that brought forward even more laughing giggles from sparkling.

_Old MacDonald had a farm,  
__E-I-E-I-O._

_And on his farm he had some explosives,  
__E-I-E-I-O._

_With a boom, boom here,  
__And a boom, boom there,  
__Here a boom, there a boom,  
__Everywhere a boom, boom,_

_Old MacDonald no longer had a farm,  
__E-I-E-I-O._

Each time Jazz said boom, his visor would flare brightly and he would throw his arms up into the air. The sparkling ate it up, laughing and giggling loudly. He continued the song, each verse getting even more outlandish until a strong pair of arms wrapped around him from behind. Jazz's voice faded away and he shivered slightly at the amused tone in Prowl's voice when he spoke.

"You are corrupting our sparkling." Prowl nuzzled his mates throat, purring softly.

"Aw, come on Prowl. Its just a harmless little song that he loves. He's too young to actually understand it." Jazz leaned into it, tilting his helm to give Prowl more access.

"I'll be sure to remind you of that when he starts blowing stuff up."

Prowl stepped back and tugged his mate out of the room, glancing back to watch as the happy sparkling went back to playing with the toys strewn around him. He paused, just watching the sparkling. Happiness and love bloomed in his spark and he smiled as he felt the emotions echo back at him from Jazz. It was something he had never expected. Neither Jazz's unconditional love nor their little creation. And he would give his own spark to keep them safe.

It was Jazz's turn to tug on him this time, and he went willingly. As the door closed behind them, he gathered his mate close and kissed him with every bit of passion and love in his frame. The war was finally over, and it was time to live again.

* * *

These next two are connected with my story I Watched. Both are unfinished versions that I started of Prowls P.O.V. There is a chance I may finish one of them in the future, but i'm not sure when. So I thought I would share them as snippets for now.

**Snippet 2**

Prowl stared at his leader in disbelief, aware of the fact that for the first time, he was so very tempted to disobey orders. What Optimus Prime was asking of him was wrong. It went against the very thing the Autobots stood for. Freedom. The ability to live ones life as they chose. The first thought in his processor was born from his spark, and it urged him to resign then and there. But his Battle computer and logic circuits took over and he was forced to admit that the Prime was right. With a sharp nod to his Prime , he drew his doorwings to sharp attention on his back, rotated swiftly on his pedes and left the room. And if he saw the beautiful smile directed his way from the new TIC as he passed through the command center, he ignored it completely.

As the vorns passed though, Prowl was unable to follow his Primes orders completely. Something about Jazz called to him. Whenever he was near, Prowls spark was lighter. Whenever he heard the bots musical laughter, it was hard for him not to smile along with him. He kept a tight rein on his emotions though and never allowed Jazz to see just how much he was falling for him. Instead he forged a friendship with the bot. One that he cherished more then anything.

The day Praxus fell was one of the darkest days he had ever experienced. He kept his frame stiff and straight around the autobots, aware even as he concentrated on finding survivors, that the others couldn't understand his lack of emotion. But Jazz understood, and was there for him every step of the way. It was during this time that Prowl fell all the way in love with Jazz. But his processor reminded him of the Primes orders, that he was under no circumstances allowed to start a relationship with a fellow officer. And even if those orders only applied to him of the whole autobot army, he would follow them. But not being able to tell or show Jazz his love put a strain on their friendship.

* * *

Snippet 3

Prowl stretched tiredly, his struts and cables protesting the movement. He hurt everywhere. Mostly because his internal repair system had been running constantly. And as a result, newly repaired sensors were still sensitive. Made even more so from the attention Jazz had lavished upon his frame and from the bonding. A soft touch on his frame, gently stroking, soothing away the soreness with magnetic pulses reminded him why he had awakened. He smiled softly, content to remain where he was. Happy to be in the arms of the mech he loved.

But there was something that was bugging him. An emotion he could feel radiating from the mech curled against his side. The almost desperate quality of the touches to his armor. The need to prove that Prowl was still there. The bond between them was still new, but it had allowed Prowl to see just how much and for how long Jazz had loved him. It had allowed him to see the pain the the other mech had endured. Pain he had caused the one bot he had ever truly loved. It was something he would spend the rest of his life trying to make amends for. Jazz's hands continued to slide against his armor, and as Prowl curled more tightly into the warmth of the others frame, he allowed himself to remember just how he had arrived at this point.

\-/

Prowl stared into the visor of the charming and beautiful new Head of Special Ops, Jazz and felt something inside his spark chamber shift. He was slightly embarrassed as his engine revved softly, and his doorwings quivered with interest. Grateful that Jazz didn't seem to notice, he still stiffened to full attention when Optimus Prime sent him a reminder of the Officer Rules and Regulations over his comm link. Officers were allowed to consort with recruits or others, but never with a fellow officer.

He buried his attraction to the other black and white, never allowing it to show on the surface. Jazz brought a completely new way of looking at things and the two of them worked well together. They were often together, either planning missions or simply spending time with one another. A deep friendship was developed and it was one of the very few things that Prowl could honestly say he cherished.

Then came one of the darkest times he had ever experienced. Praxus was leveled to the ground. Lives, so very many lives were lost. The beauty, the uniqueness, the very soul of the city was extinguished. Prowl was forced to hide his emotions, to carry on with relief efforts. But by the end of each orn, exhaustion dragged his frame down. Guilt, despair and a thousand other emotions threatened to overwhelm him. And it was at these times that Jazz would be there. Offering whatever Prowl needed. Be it a shoulder to cry on, or simply the comfort of a friends presence nearby. And it was during this time that he found himself falling the rest of the way in love. He tried to hide it, knowing that no good could come from it, and in the end all it managed to do was put a strain on their friendship.

The love he felt for Jazz would not be buried for long though. It became increasingly hard not to think of his friend in that manner. As a result, his Battle Computer began to spit out solutions to him. Many of them were improbable. Resigning was tempting. He was getting tired of the war. In truth, Prowl had never wanted to be a warrior. But his people needed him to be one, and so he dismissed that option. That only left one other option. And he knew it was a bad idea, but chose to try it anyway. He found a new recruit, one that he could have loved had circumstances been different, and started a relationship with the mech. He had hoped that it would distract him from Jazz. Maybe even shift the love he felt to this new bot. He was so wrong.

The time he spent away from Jazz was almost painful. He missed his friend on so many levels. In the time he did spend with Jazz, he began to worry. The bot was changing before his optics. And it wasn't a good type of change. The saboteur withdrew into himself, becoming depressed and Prowl was at a loss on how to help him. He became almost obsessed with Jazz, the bot constantly on his processor and it was an accident when one night he called out Jazz's name instead of his lovers. He stiffened on the berth, humiliated and waiting for his partners angry questioning. It never came. And when he finally drug up the courage to look at the other, he was stunned to find a sad understanding in the mechs faceplates. They spent the rest of the night talking, and their relationship changed from being lovers to being one of true friendship. Prowl finding someone he could talk with, confide in. Someone to help him continue on when he lost Jazz altogether.


End file.
